Crossing the Rubicon
by Hari-chan15
Summary: Can something be truly destroyed, or does it retain its existence in the fragments of what it once was?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** 'Ello blokes. I watched Coraline about two weeks ago, and I loved it! I read the book afterward to find out more about some details. I'll attempt to incorporate the book and the movie universe, so if you're a Coraline book purist, you'll have to get your sick kicks elsewhere. For clarification, Wybie and Coraline should be in their senior year of college (because even if it's written in the fic, there's always going to be some schmuk who's still going to ask). Coraline (the book and the movie) don't belong to me.

(p.s. For those who're waiting for my FFXIII fic (I kinda doubt it), rest assured that I'm working on it!)

The lecture hall was silent save the intent scribbling by the three hundred something people who occupied it. They normally wouldn't be showing up to World literature since most of them weren't die hard history fans. Plus the professor's clipped monotonous tone emitting from a mouth that wouldn't open more than a few centimeters didn't add to the motivation. But today was exam day. So each seat was occupied, and the stragglers were treated to the most broken chairs, leftie seats, or broken leftie seats. Wybie was one such straggler, but late of only five minutes before the exam started. He really should've known that someone (whom he'd never seen before) would have taken his spot.

He had to contort his right arm to the left side of the extra small desk in order to properly start writing the essays. Strangely, he didn't find the essays to be as difficult as most people construed them. His favorite part of the class, though, was looking at the different literatures from across the world- it just gave him another understanding of different cultures. And oddly, he felt strangely satisfied with that. So when Wybie handed his essay in, there was a fleeting moment of uneasy detachment; he wasn't going to be taking a class like this again. Perhaps that feeling couldn't escape him because this was his final gen. ed, and this was the last of his final exam for the fall semester of his senior year at the university.

Unlike most students, he didn't walk triumphantly out of the lecture hall. The last part in a given quote for the essay left him feeling a bit perturbed. What was the quote they used? Oh, right.

'Now I have become death, destroyer of worlds.' He guessed the reason he remembered this line was hearing it from somewhere before.

Strangely, he couldn't remember the topic of the essay. Nor did he want to. So he pushed it out of his mind.

After Wybie climbed out the stairs that led to the exit of the lecture hall, he found the sky to be grayer than before. His shoes made a lone sound on the pavement of one of the parking lots he had to traverse in order to reach his apartment. Not many people seemed to be out- it was only three in the afternoon. That was probably they were done with their exams way earlier, and they were at home without a worry. Wybie, however, had his last exam on a Thursday. It could've been worse. He knew business majors had some exams on weekends. Good thing he wasn't one of them.

The lamp posts were already emitting a yellowish light confined in their own bubble. Somehow, they were comforting in that they were his only company in a cold day. There had been snow forecasts lately, but they weren't always fulfilling the expectations of people. Especially college students.'. Snow was no longer a strange sight for the Oregon native. He'd already seen it three consecutive years prior.

He suddenly remembered his freshmen year in which the RA for his floor tried to familiarize the students with each other with lame ice breakers, such as 'never have I ever…'

"Never have I ever….watched snow fall," Wybie remembers himself saying, amidst the surprise of his fellow New Englanders in the dorm. He couldn't blame them since it did Snow near the mountains in Oregon. But Grandma didn't really let him out of her sight- and she didn't seem to like traveling. Thus he never expressed his wish to see it.

And now, he'd seen enough of it to last him lifetimes. He only liked it when it fell. Not after when the snow trucks were done with it. Or when he had to tread it in wake of a class that should have been cancelled.

He finally reached the steps of his apartment- well, his and his roommate's. The apartments were actually segments of a small house, which was enclosed neatly in a neighborhood of university students. After unlocking the door, he started out his usual routine (which his grandmother had ingrained in him) of putting away his belongings, washing up and then making himself something to eat. Today, Wybie decided, would be veggie burger day. His grandma would kill him, knowing that he was eating processed food. But he was already in the mindset of being done for the semester, and he could eat practically anything at any time of the day. Yes, he would have days in which a peanut butter and jelly sandwich would suffice for dinner. Well, at least he wasn't worse than his roommate- whose existence depended on the microwave and a cup of ramen.

Speaking of his roommate, he was in a final for his major: physiology and neurobiology, which was practically a death sentence. Wybie's roomie was also a bright student from high school (acing honors/AP classes), but the course load of college was presented in such a different, and sometimes, non committal manner, that he had lost his motivation at the end of the first semester of sophomore year. That, and he was an international student who missed his home dearly. Wybie didn't blame him. He knew it himself that he couldn't live a thousand miles away from his grandma, not being certain if her health was always alright or if she needed company. So Wybie called her every night- their conversations lasting from twenty to even forty minutes. Wybie reminded himself to call her tonight, before leaving for winter break.

'The final dish,' he thought as he washed his plate. After putting it away, he walked to his room (which he really considered as a pseudo room because he didn't really feel attached to it). The first object that came in his line of view was his desk, next to which there was a large calendar attached to the wall.

'December seventeenth,' he thought as he looked at the calendar date for the thousandth time. He grabbed the black marker from the pencil holder on the wooden desk, crossing off the square box assigned to the date. He couldn't help but breathe out a sigh of relief before slumping on his chair. The day was officially over.

"Done for the semester, Wybourne?"

Wybie turned to his roommate who stood next to the doorframe, crossing his arms.

"Looks like it," Wybie said, turning to him. "How was your exam?"

"Let's not talk about it," his roommate replied with a wry smile.

"I wonder why they make PNB harder than mechanical engineering. I-it's like they're setting up everyone for failure," Wybie said, standing up to decide which things to pack.

"You're forgetting that I'm working towards the B.S here." (AKA, Bachelor of Science degree), his roommate said with a snort. "Anyway, let's talk about nicer things. Like seeing Coraline."

Upon hearing that, Wybie almost jumped before a reddish hue washed over his cheeks.

"Whoa there! Chill!" His roommate said, clutching his stomach as if he laughed too hard. "Just her name gets you fired up! I should see this Coraline."

"S-Stop that!" Wybie said, turning around and crossing his arms.

"Oh, right. Jealousy here, I see." His roommate was truly enjoying himself at this moment. He knew that what Wybie was feeling was not jealousy. One of his hobbies was to make Wybie flustered- it was just too easy. Wybie could be awkward as a teenage girl in front of her crush.

Wybie nearly stomped over to his bags before putting them on his bed to start packing things. He could feel his roommate's amused/sardonic glance on him.

"Don't you have packing to do too?" Wybie asked after noticing that his roommate wasn't leaving to his own affairs. "Aren't you taking the bus today too?"

"Nah- I already packed yesterday, remember?" He said before stretching. "And I'm catching the bus tomorrow- more convenient for my cousins."

"Well, go and make sure that you're not forgetting something." Wybie retorted.

"I'm not you, remember?" His roommate said before quickly exiting the room. Wybie rolled his eyes. His roommate was another story for another day.

Wybie decided that his laptop bag and a clothes bag were enough luggage- most of his clothes were at home anyway. The fastest way from the Northeast to the Northwest was by plane. The expense of it always kept him away from home during times like Thanksgiving Break and spring vacation. Wybie gave his room a final look, trying to make sure that he was taking all of the necessities with him. There had been a time in which he forgot his laptop plug at home (Grandma wasn't very happy about paying the shipment fee.) Another glance at the semi-neat room. Wybie was already acknowledging that he would see the same sight one month later.

"Got your keys, Wybourne?" His roommate asked from the kitchen, already delving into his shrimp ramen. There had been instances in which Wybie had forgotten his house keys while his roommate was out.

Wybie raised them.

"Don't I get a goodbye hug?" His roommate said, almost snickering.

"A month's way too short," Wybie replied in return, walking up the front door.

"Saving them for Coraline, I see…"

"What'd you say?"

"Have a very merry Christmas!"

After switching buses and arriving at the New York airport, Wybie underwent the usual process before one boards a plane. Finally, after he found his seat in the plane, put his laptop bag in the top compartment and listened to all of the redundant safety procedures, he decided to catch up on six hours of his sleep (which he missed quite a lot when studying for his more difficult finals).

His grandma was there to pick him up at the airport at 12am, as she insisted despite his protests of getting there himself in fear of her ailing health. She wouldn't even let him touch the wheel of her Chevy, saying that he needed rest after all that traveling. He didn't feel tired at all, talking about his new semester experiences. But once he got home, he collapsed on his bed for another six hours.

And it was exactly in six hours when Wybie would wake up.

"Wybourne! Wake up!"

Of course Wybie woke up to the sound that emanated the mornings at home. By now, he knew better than to test his grandmother's ability to walk upstairs to shake him awake, since people 'could become lazy' if they continuously woke up after seven. Grandma had probably taken an oath to be proactive and prevent Wybie from even thinking of waking anytime later. (Not that he woke up at later times in his dorm since he had an 8:30am class). The problem at home was that he didn't know how to better spend his day when he had more time at his disposal.

By the time he made it downstairs, breakfast was already put up on the table, consisting of a cheese omelet, toast, milk, orange juice and sliced oranges. Ms. Lovat didn't notice him walking in the kitchen, since she was engrossed in an open cabinet, looking for something.

"Good morning, Grandma," He offered, since she probably didn't hear him come in. She turned around and smiled.

"Good morning, Wybourne," She replied. "Sit down, child. Eat something. Heaven knows what you've been eating up there."

Although Wybie walked over the table, his protective instinct of his grandma prevented him from sitting down. "What're you looking for?," he asked. At that moment, his Grandma seemed to find what she was looking for. He then realized that it was her medicine, since it was the medicine cabinet. As a kid, once he became aware of the prospect of death, he developed an innate fear of medicine. The smell, the sickly shades of white and yellow. Medicine was taken when a person was sick. And it didn't always work. He knew that Grandma didn't want his help. She liked to do most things on her own. So he quietly sat down, not taking his eyes off her.

But he never voiced the fear of medicine since his grandma blatantly took the medicine and made him participate in it by bringing her a glass of water. So became used to the routines. Even then, he didn't like the pills in the orange prescription containers. He read the labels- perhaps trying to gain knowledge of them so they wouldn't remain so mysterious. He also liked to have an awareness of what exactly his grandma was taking, so he felt like he was helping her in some way.

So when she walked over with her cane, sat down slowly, poured herself a glass of milk and caught him staring at her, she casually said "for the arthritis. Ain't getting' any younger." Wybie nodded wordlessly and pulled over the omelet plate. He didn't push the topic of his grandmother's ailing health. Even the weather failed to alleviate the mood- he could see out of the kitchen window that today wasn't going to be a sunny day.

"So…anything new happened while I was gone?" Wybie asked, trying to start a conversation.

Ms. Lovat didn't seem to hear him-as if her attention was fixed on something he couldn't see. She seemed to be doing that more often, ever since last year. At first, he was annoyed with the silences on the phone, and then he started becoming worried if she was in deep thought. She usually was like this when she didn't want to tell him something.

"Grandma?" He asked after a while.

She shook her head, and then looked back at him, a little startled. "Oh, I'm sorry, Wybourne. Did you say something?"

"I-I asked if anything new happened," he said, not quite looking at her in the eye. Her gaze used to be domineering in his childhood, so he mostly averted her gaze.

There was a silence before she answered.

"Have you talked to your friend recently?"

Wybie stopped chewing on his sandwich. He knew which friend she was referring to. He swallowed uncomfortably. To be honest, he hadn't talked to Coraline in a while. Since months, perhaps.

"No," he answered. He wasn't going to add the 'not really,' part, knowing that she would want him to elaborate. He didn't want to get in that subject with his grandmother at the moment.

She slowly shook her head. "Wonder why this is happening to the Joneses now."

Wybie got a dreaded feeling as she said this- since she wasn't looking at him anymore. He was afraid of asking, so he didn't say anything.

"The Jones' girl- she tried to kill herself."

"…"

"…."

"…"

Wybie didn't breathe. The world seemed to stop, and he wasn't quite sure that he was present, on the table, sitting next to his grandma. The pitcher of milk, the juice carton, the tablecloth, the table, the stove, the table-everything seemed so foreign, so far away. And only then he realized how far away from reality he really was.

Coraline? His best friend Coraline? The girl who was always smiling, who wasn't afraid of camping in the woods, who was always facing her fears, the one who made no apologies for who she was. That Coraline?

Suddenly, the food in front of him seemed too cold to eat. He stood up.

"Where is she?" He asked, looking around. He didn't realize it, but he was looking for his keys of his motorcycle.

"The hospital- Wybourne, you didn't finish your breakfast!," she called after him. She knew that he lost his appetite.

"I'm not hungry anymore," he called out from the closet, procuring his black trench.

His grandma didn't reprimand him as she heard the slamming of the front door.

**Author's Note: **Was it torturous? Let me know what you guys think. Don't worry- this isn't going to be one of those "someone dies and so and so think about it" fanfics. Some things aren't clear in this chapter for a reason, so I shall cover it in the next chapter. And yes, I know I have a verbose writing style. Creative criticism is welcome, so please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Hey guys- thanks for the reviews (and faves)! So I finally typed up the second chapter. It's shorter than I would've liked it, but there's a lot on my plate this semester. So…updates won't be so frequent. However, I do have the entire story outlined, so it will continue throughout this year. Anyhoo, give a critique and let me know if there are distracting grammatical errors, and or if the characters are too OOC. Happy reading!

_Nine Years Ago_

_Coraline seemed to be sitting on the tree stump for what seemed like ages. She sighed and slumped her face in her hands. 'Maybe I should go home,' she thought. But what if Wybie showed up at the last second? She might as well ditch him. That Wybie was late. Grandma Lovat was probably making him finish all of the chores again. How many chores could a family of two have? He knew that she would be waiting by now. Well, okay, she didn't tell him that she would be waiting for him exactly at this time. It was more of a mutual routine for them- they usually met up an hour after school had ended; there was no formal time for exploring. She should have been exploring more of the woods by herself. But after the incident with the Beldam, she found it kind of hard to venture alone, especially around the well. Safety was in numbers, and who would better accompany her than the person who aided her in getting rid of the witch? Erase that. Getting rid of the metallic hand. Yeah, that sounded right. _

_She snatched a nearby twig and began to draw the skeletal hand. _

"_Nice drawing." Wybie said all too suddenly, standing behind Coraline. Although he wasn't very intimidating with his bad posture, know-it-all-voice and hair that that could ensnare leaves and twigs alike, his presence without the familiar sound of his bike was a surprise. Which turned to annoyance in a matter of milliseconds. _

"_You know, you're usually able to tell if there's someone around you. You've been off lately," He said, rubbing the area on his arm that would surely be purple by tomorrow. _

"_Failed upgrade?" asked Coraline in her usual nonchalant tone, blatantly changing the topic. She deduced that something happened to his motorbike, thus the absence of it. Wybie had his own ideas about upgrading his bike, and nine out of ten, the results of implementing those ideas were not pretty. Strangely, he never seemed to hurt himself. Much. Maybe that's why he never gave up. _

"_Yup- Grandma grounded me for it this time." He said, his shoulders slumping even more. _

_A momentary pause grew between them as they started walking in the woods. Wybie didn't say anything. Maybe, because Corlaine thought, he was finally learning to talk with her, not to her. _

_They both walked farther into the woods where light seemed to hesitate (save where the trees allowed the penetration) and their converses sunk deeper in the ground, slightly burying the decaying leaves. _

_She didn't really know where she was going, really. Just walking, perhaps until Wybie would caution them to turn around after hearing his overprotective grandma call him through the denseness of the small forest. (How that elderly woman had enough strength to call that guy over a mile was beyond her.) So Coraline decided to resume walking. Who knows, maybe they'd really find something new today. _

"_So," Wybie started again obliviously, "At first, I was thinking of putting the stuff we find in formaldehyde, but then I thought that Gramma wouldn't like it. So I think that it's better to just take pictures of all the bugs instead. But the camera's flash isn't that great…" _

_Coraline didn't respond as they continued walking forward. Wybie, however, didn't seem to catch the hint. Instead, he continued, which only increased her annoyance. A part of her mind wanted to decipher her reason for that feeling, but she deliberately ignored it. _

"_And that stuff smells weird anyway. Stays with you. I also asked a guy who worked at the museum, and he told me that-"_

_At that second, Coraline tripped on one of the rocks, falling forward before Wybie could awkwardly extend his arms in an attempt to stop her. She turned herself over, sat up, and finally noticed that Wybie was reaching out to her with his gloved hand._

"_You okay, Jonesy?"_

_She couldn't decipher for the life of her afterwards, but she knew without a doubt that she looked back at him with such unrecognizable rage that he blinked. _

_s_

"_Just shut up!," She heard herself say, shoving his hand away. The burning anger inside her singed out when a look of immediate hurt passed over his green eyes. He seemed to curl more- inside more than out. Suddenly, she felt a strange twinge in her heart- the place which extracted a pleasure from cruelty bestowed on what caused indignation dwindled at that sight. _

_She quickly lifted herself up before he could even think about turning around and removing himself from her presence. She couldn't quite look him in the eye when she began her apology. _

"_Wybie- I…I'm really-" was all she managed to say before he backed up slowly with caution, his eyes growing wider. _

"_What?" She asked, taking a step closer. _

"_Scorpion. On you." he managed to say before Coraline screamed and flung her arms about, trying to find it. _

"_Where?" She nearly screeched when she felt the eight-legged insect crawl on her arm, making it's way down. She tried to waive it off, but it wouldn't budge. _

_Wybie, to her rescue, finally procured tongs from his coat and grabbed on of the creature's legs, prying it off his friend and flinging it away. _

_If it wasn't for the burning sensation on the back of her hand, she would have thanked Wybie Lovat from saving her from the clutches of the evil arthropod. They ran out of the forest to their usual crossroads from the tree stump. Wybie suggested that since his house was closer, she could get icepacks there. It was inevitable that Ms. Lovat would find them in the kitchen, trying to compress the swollen red area on Coraline's hand. It was predictable that Coraline would have to go to the emergency room. They also knew what was coming: no woods for the rest of the year. _

_Coraline and Wybie didn't talk to each other for the rest of the week, both having their own trauma about being banned from the place they loved. But as Coraline collected the mail in the morning, she saw that there was a package at the door, addressed to her. From Wybie. She opened the rectangular package to find a pair of what appeared to be small leather gloves._

_Next time, I'd wear gloves if I were you, she thought to herself. There was also a small note with Wybie's scrawled handwriting splayed across the paper. _

'_It's always okay in the end. And if it's not okay, then it's not the end._

_ ~Wybie'_

Wybie had read that when a person was most stressed, things that did not pertain to the situation were cast out. Irrelevant details. That's why he forgot his helmet. That's why when he drove, he didn't think about how the clouds were gliding away to bestow a golden hue on the road, the other cars, the trees or whatever else that was there. It didn't matter. He would have even ran the red lights, the occasional squirrel, and heck, even the usual old guy who took forever to cross the street. But alas, it took a lot of patience to grudgingly obey those laws until he finally reached the hospital.

He basically ran to the receptionist, dismissing the semi-annoyed look she had on her face, who probably construed him as a teen "rabble rouser" by the way he was dressed. Plus it didn't help that he looked younger than most college 'manly-men.'

"Hi, I'm looking for Coraline Jones." He asked more than stated.

"Let's see…," she said (with a nasally voice) as she searched the computer data base. "It says here that only family members are allowed to visit. Are you family?"

"Yes." Wybie answered quickly. Bad mistake. The receptionist didn't buy it, seeing as how she looked at him dubiously.

"Only family members." She said. "Come back some other day."

Wybie frowned. Here was his friend in a situation of life and death, and only family members were allowed to visit?

Screw that.

He feigned a defeated sigh and instead of going back to the automatic entrance door, he walked towards the left corridor. When he noticed her eying him suspiciously, he casually responded, 'EMS office- EMT classes start soon, you know,' gesturing towards the flyer that was conveniently there on the wall. He just happened to remember when his high school friend mentioned the information on those classes.

He laughed on the inside, deviously, as he climbed in the elevator with the cleaning robot (which was actually waiting for the elevator too.) He didn't know which floor Coraline was on, to be exact, so he decided to try each floor. On the second floor, two nurses walked in. They were talking among themselves as though they didn't notice Wybie's presence. He decided to tune them out until he heard the subject of their conversation.

"So what's the story with Caroline?" The short nurse asked.

"Well," The taller nurse stared as though it was a casual subject. "Had to put her morphine two days back. They transferred her to room 503B. She hasn't been talking, which is normal considering what she tried to do. If you ask me, they should keep her under observation. You never really know with her type."

Wybie would have told them that they were violating a type of privacy law by adding Coraline to their daily gossip, but the information was just too valuable. He remained silent until the elevator reached the fifth floor, excusing himself out. The floor was mainly empty save for the occasional clicks of the heater. He finally found the small plate that read 505B on the door. Without hesitating, he opened the door.

There was a hospital bed, a machine that made the occasional beep, and an IV that was connected to the small arm of the person for whom he was searching.

The blue haired girl was sitting up, gazing at the window, as though she was not aware that Wybie was standing at the door.

"Coraline," he heard himself say.

She was looking at the window. If it was possible, Coraline seemed smaller than usual. The window couldn't be opened, but it was as if the wind, sounds and even the sunshine seemed hesitant to approach the confines of the room. It was a vacuum: silent and devoid of light (except for the bluish light emitting from the hospital lights on the ceiling).

He wondered for a second if she didn't turn her head because she couldn't hear him.

Wordlessly, he walked up to her bedside, waiting for a reaction. Her eyes never left the window- even then she didn't seem acknowledge his presence. No indication that he was even there. There was a part of Wybie that was afraid that she couldn't see him. The rest of him was terrified of the prospect that she didn't want to him. This was his best friend Coraline, wasn't it? Her light brown eyes, her shocking blue hair, her freckles were there. They weren't recognizable. They had seemed to lose the familiarity that was associated with Coraline. They weren't Coraline's. At least not the one that he knew.

He sat on the foot of the bed, looking at the window too, deciding for once, that it was better to not say anything.

_Only a few people find comfort in mutual silence. _

He honestly thought that he fell asleep looking at the ceiling or something since he felt myself wake by the sound of the doorknob turning. When he realized that he was lying down at the end of the bed, he quickly raised his self up to reveal my disgruntled form to Mel Jones.

She tried not to show it, but she looked pretty darn surprised by the way her eyes grew wide. She quickly looked back at Coraline, who was still drawn to the window, and then back to Wybie.

She quickly composed herself before speaking. "Long time no see, Wybourne," she said in a quiet voice (so as not to disturb Coraline), trying to smile in politeness. He knew that this was a wee bit awkward considering how many possible thoughts could've been running through her head at this point.

"H-hi, Mrs. Jones," He said, trying to sound casual yet failing at that once again. He saw her eyes look up at his hair that were even more messy than usual- a reminder that he was asleep on Coraline's bed.

There was a silence again. But this time, it wasn't comfortable.

**Author's note: **Sorry if this chapter sucked. I'll try to improve the quality. I wasn't too happy either, but I wanted the story to continue. Hehe…Ahem. So….like I said, comments/criticism are highly valued. Here's the suggestion box *extends garbage can* Just kidding! Seriously, let me know your thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello readers! (If there's anyone out there.) To the ones who reviewed, thank you for taking the time to do so! Hari appreciates your input! To those who added this story in their favorites, thank you for doing that, and forgive me for this late update. Hehe….for new readers, welcome! This chapter will be short, but there will hopefully be more updates once things get settled down a bit for me- perhaps in July. Anyhoo, feel free to critique it! **

**Disclaimer: Coraline does not belong to me. **

Coraline Chapter 3

"How's college been?," Mel asked. They were sitting in the lounge so as not to disturb Coraline, "It's your final year, isn't it?"

"Oh, uh..," He started, running his hand through my hair in hopes of making it more presentable. "Yes…Yes it is," He said quietly, though not meeting her eyes. "And uh, it's been…okay," He finished lamely. A million images of different things in college ran through his mind, but to sum them up, all he could think of was 'okay.' In truth, it couldn't be translated into a perfect definition, as in the cases of those college brochures with the diverse group of smiling, good looking, and successful young college students.

Mel took a light sip of her coffee from the hospital cafeteria, attempting a smile. But he could tell that it was an attempt to preserve the normality. But that was just it. This wasn't part of a daily routine where he was supposed to visit the Jones to say 'hi' as Coraline's friend. Wybie just looked at the rough, dark blue tiles of the floor, exhaling.

It was always easier to refer to those one liners that sum up everything, he thought. At least then he would feel that he has some sort of grip on the situation. And some familiarity too. But what to do when he didn't know how to react or deal with something new that happens? And he didn't mean the good new thing.

That's why it was just better to not worry about the future. Everything is and always was a surprise. And before he even knew it, he was off on his way, and the person with whom he shared a lot with himself no longer wanted to talk to him. What could he do?

"How's Mr. Jones doing?" Wybie asked, looking up, genuinely concerned.

"He's been all right," Mel answered. "Just been trying to take care of the gardening catalogue business."

It was then that Wybie noticed how tired she looked- almost as much as years back when Coraline first introduced him to her mother. But this wasn't just a plaintive fatigue from work. But what struck him the most was something she consciously could not hide; the look in her eyes. And then arose a feeling that he tried to suppress back inside of himself, no matter how much it was trying to climb its way out from where he pushed it.

"Excuse me," Mel said before setting down her coffee and quickly walking away, before Wybie had a chance to respond.

He wished that he could say something to alleviate some pain for the family. But he knew that anything he would say would merely appear as shallow intent.

He then finally let the emotions surface: he wanted to say 'I'm sorry.' Before college, Wybie was a person who would apologize for any misgiving- his fault or not. After being there, learning so much from so many different experiences, he stopped apologizing, even when it was his fault. When he would make a mistake, he would merely stop, acknowledge it, and then continue in a different direction. But he couldn't escape the guilt from this because it was about his best friend. And the tightness in his chest did inform him that he should have kept more in touch with her.

Sure, he visited each winter vacation and summer vacation, but it was rare that he would actually call her during the semesters. He should have continued to talk to her, even if she became annoyed with him. If he did that, this could've been prevented, couldn't it? And now, she doesn't even want to look at him… It was all his fault…He gripped his head when he bent down, trying to stop this, yet wanting to be in a farther place to scream.

"You all right, kiddo?"

Wybie suddenly looked up to see Mr. Jones standing in front of him with a concerned look on his face. 'He should be worrying about himself instead,' Wybie thought. Similar to Ms. Jones, Mr. Jones was trying his best to look well kempt, but the unintentional look of fatigue on his face told otherwise.

Mr. Jones too could observe that Wybie wasn't all right. It was probably too much for him at once. Wybie truly did not know what was happening. He probably could not give insight about Coraline either. He might have been probably just as clueless as them. Then again, this kid might have been closer to Coraline than either he or Mel could have been. Were they missing out on something that the whole world knew?

"I-I'm fine…," Wybie said, pulling himself from the fit. "H-how're you doing, Mr. Jones?"

"I'm all right," he said, yet it didn't take a genius to realize that there was no hint of silliness or humor that came with Charlie Jones. Wybie wanted to say something to him as well, but at this point, he thought that he would sound like a pretentious dork.

'Mr. Jones, I-"

"Charlie? What are you doing here?" Mel asked, walking from the end of the hallway. "Weren't you at-"

"I was," He spoke. "But then Mrs. Lovat called to let me know that Wybie was here," he said, turning to the messy-haired young man.

"Should it be now?" Mel asked, turning from Wybie to Charlie.

"The sooner, the better," He assured.

Wybie, feeling a little more out of the loop, since they seemed to be having a conversation that didn't make sense to him. He realized that both of them were looking at him now.

"Wybie, we need to talk to you." Charlie said, wrapping his arm around Mel's shoulder.

**A/N: Ooooh, it's a mystery, all right! That was sarcasm, by the way. More should be up, depending on these crazy weeks. I have the outline for the story- just gotta type out those darn details… Anyhoo, leave a review if you're feeling up to it!**


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